


we said goodbye to safe and sound

by plinys



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: "Just get it over with,” Richie says. Bracing himself for the impact. “Tell me how awful and terrible I am and I’ll even let you get a good punch in-”“Why the fuck would I do that?"





	we said goodbye to safe and sound

**Author's Note:**

> for my bad things happen bingo card and the prompt "forced out of the closet"

“We have a no tolerance policy for fights at this school, Mr. Tozier,” the principal says. “A policy that I know you are well aware of.” 

Why is it always  _ Mr. Tozier  _ when he’s in trouble?

As if to impose some sort of seriousness to the situation, to inspire him to act like an adult, instead of the teenager that he is. 

Richie stares blankly ahead of him, his glasses were cracked making it hard to clearly make out the school’s principal, and Richie is more worried about the way his mother will stress over having to buy him new glasses than the fact that he got into a  _ fight _ . 

At least, it’s easier to focus on that. 

Than the reason why he was fighting in the first place.

There’s blood splattered on his shirt, from where he was punched in the face, and blood on his hands, from where he hit back. And it hurts, all of it hurts so fucking much. Not just the physical, but the emotional too because he… 

He had worked so hard.

Kept this secret for so long. 

It was just a few weeks now until he was done with this whole fucking town, until he was free of  _ Derry _ and everyone the lived here. He had spent hears biting his tongue, holding himself back, refusing to let his gaze linger to long, pretending to be  _ normal _ , and for what… 

“Do you really think I started this fight,” Richie finally asks. “Me?” 

“That is what the other boys told me,” the principal replies. 

“There were  _ four  _ of them, and  _ one  _ of me,” Richie points out. “You can’t honestly think-”

“This is not the first time that you have been in my office, Mr. Tozier, I am well aware of you tendency to say things that strike others in the wrong way,” he replies. “Now if you tell me what was said, perhaps we can come to a different resolution.” 

If he says  _ that  _ word.

The word he has been running from for years.

“I’d rather not,” Richie replies. 

It’s a label that hurts so much more than he can handle.

Not because it’s untrue. He knows that they’re not  _ wrong  _ when they fling those words at him. But he knows what other people will think, what his friends will think. 

_ Dirty _ .

_ Abnormal _ .

He doesn’t belong. 

All too well Richie can remember the one time he tried to bring it up, so fucking casual, just to test the waters with one person in particular. And he remembers the quietly shocked looks he had gotten in return, the way Eddie launched into a ramble about how his mother said it was unhealthy and unnatural and -

He hadn’t been able to explain that night, how he cried until his eyes burned the second he got home, the way his mother had both understood and misunderstood all at the same time. Bringing him a mug of hot chocolate and asking who it was that broke his heart. 

But this was so much worse than that. 

Because they had been there. 

Had stood off to the side in shock or horror maybe when the other boys had tugged him into the center, shouted for all the  _ Richie Tozier is a fag and deserves exactly what was coming _ . The suggestion that they might be able to  _ beat  _ it out of him. Like Richie hadn’t tries nights and nights to wish it all away, to stand under the spray of a shower until the water burnt his skin and hope that maybe when he stepped out he might no longer be so  _ dirty _ . 

He’s not really listening as his principal explains, a three day suspension, weeks before graduation. The threat that if he kept this up he might not be able to walk the stage, even with his nearly perfect grades. 

“You’re eighteen now, so I won’t bother calling your parents,” the one small blessing to come out of this. “But, Mr. Tozier?” 

“Yes.”

“You are  _ eighteen  _ now,” he repeats with emphasis this time. “If you keep getting in trouble like this, outside the halls of my school, you could be tried as an adult. Remember that.” 

Richie nods his head. Unwilling to reply that once again this is not his fault. He knows how this all looks, and in a town like Derry, where he’s been running for bullies since he first learned how to run… 

Soon he’d get out of here.

So fucking soon.

What were a few more weeks?

Even if he was going to be friendless and alone, at least, after this he’d have a whole new city to make himself into a whole new person. Maybe a person that was a little less afraid of his own trust. Or maybe a person that nobody would ever guess to be a little bit  _ different  _ from the rest. 

Richie knows a dismissal when he gets one. 

A part of him wanted to go back for his backpack, back in the locker, but that means walking down the halls where any number of people could be looking at him, now that his dirty little secret was out there. Richie knows, no matter how hard he tries to deny it, no matter how hard he has been trying for so long, that nobody would believe him now. 

Not with overwhelming evidence to the contrary. 

So instead he heads for the school parking lot, for the piece of shit car that was one day going to take him out of this town. For a moment of privacy before he heads back home and avoids explaining to his parents why he broke yet another pair of glasses. 

At least, that’s his plan.

A plan that gets completely thrown off kilter by the sight of someone leaning against the side of his car blocking his exit.

Suddenly walking the miles home doesn’t seem like the worst idea ever. 

Might be a good way to clear his head.

A better options than - 

“Rich!”

Eddie  _ fucking  _ Kaspbrak.

He can’t pretend he didn’t see him. 

Not now.

He knew ever since that group started shouting at him that things would end up like this, that his friends would confront him, and that they would drop him just like that. But Richie had thought that he would at least have more time than this. That he could make it home, lay low for his three day suspension, let the weekend come around, and then show up Monday friendless and alone and just make it through the end of the school year.

That wouldn’t have been the worst thing ever. 

But now…

This was worse than any fear he ever faced before. 

“Just get it over with,” Richie says. Bracing himself for the impact. “Tell me how awful and terrible I am and I’ll ever let you get a good punch in-” 

“Why the fuck would I do that,” Eddie asks. His voice tipping into that high pitches confused place that he always gets when Richie’s bullshit doesn’t make any sense. Richie’s going to miss Eddie most of all. “You’re already hurt enough as it is.” 

“What you don’t want to try and beat it out of me too? Maybe you’ll be the lucky fucker-”

“For fuck’s sake, Rich,” Eddie cuts him off. “I skipped class to buy you a fucking first aid kit.” 

“What?” 

Richie finally looks away from Eddie’s face, from the disgust that he keeps imaging will be there, and instead to his hands. The white box that he’s clutching so tightly that Richie can see the white of his knuckles. 

The “Oh,” that falls from his lips is softer. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Right, shit, thank you,” Richie replies, but the words are hesitant when they fall from his lips.

He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

For Eddie to say all the things that Richie has heard in his worst nightmares. 

“Give me the keys,” Eddie says, holding his hand out. 

And for a second Richie just stares at his hand. 

“If you think I’m going to let you drive yourself home with cracked glasses and a possible concussion then you have another thing coming,” Eddie tells him. “It’s not safe.” 

If Eddie didn’t grow up to become some wildly successful doctor what would the fucking point of growing up at all. 

Richie can’t help it. 

Maybe he just hates himself a little too much. 

Because the next thing he says is - “Why do you care?” 

Hurt flashes across Eddie’s features. “You’re my friend, Richie, just because you’re… Because you like… Fuck, it doesn’t matter okay, get in the fucking car, I’m driving you home.” 

_ It doesn’t matter _ .

If only Richie could really believe those words to be true.

Still, he pulls out his keys and hands them to Eddie, and in turn he gets handed the first aid kit. 

They’ve done this before. Eddie driving his car, when Richie couldn’t keep his head on straight enough to drive, or just when Eddie was tired of his bullshit and stole Richie’s keys away. But this is different. Even as he slips in his passenger seat of his own car, and watches Eddie adjust the seat closer to the wheel due to their difference in height, everything feels different, loaded with something that Richie knows he shouldn’t speak into existence.

He should accept this for what it is.

A peace offering. 

Not being pushed away.

But there’s a small part of Richie that can’t believe he hasn’t been pushed away, that keeps waiting for Eddie to change his mind, to tell him what an awful and disgusting person he is. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, settles into the seat, opens the first aid kit and tries not to winch when he bandages up his split knuckles. Focuses on that instead of the elephant in the room, instead of- 

“Richie.” 

“Please don’t,” Richie replies. Squeezing his eyes shut. 

Eddie doesn’t listen, when has he ever, “This doesn’t change anything.”

This time when Richie’s vision blurs it’s with tears in his eyes. He stares out of the window, refusing to look at Eddie, his voice carrying a heavy note of disbelief. “Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m serious.”

“Sure, thing, Eds.” 

“You’re still my best friend,” Eddie says. “Even if you’re a stubborn piece of shit, even if-” 

“I’m a fucking fairy,” Richie can’t help his disgust.

Disgust at himself.

He’s tried to say the words before. Tried to look at himself in the mirror and hurl all the terrible insults at himself that everyone seems to find. To make himself just a little bit numb to it all. It hadn’t gotten easier to say them, and in the end he had just cried himself to sleep again. 

But Eddie says, “Even if that,” so easy. 

No hesitation. 

It makes Richie want to ask, wants to push just a little more to see when Eddie will break, voice the real deep truth of it. 

_ Even if I’ve been in love with you since we were in the third grade _ .

But he can’t ask the question.

Can’t handle the rejection.

So he nods his head a little, knowing Eddie can’t see it, and says, “Okay then.” 

Even without looking, he can hear the frown in Eddie’s voice, “I know you don’t believe me, but…” 

“I’ve only got a few weeks left in this town anyways,” Richie says. The same thing he’s been telling himself since the first fist collided with his face. “A few weeks left and then I’m off to New York City and you’ll be in Augusta and this whole town won’t fucking matter anymore.” 

Bitter.

He’s bitter.

He’s been bitter for months now, about things he can’t control.

Why did the idea of leaving fill him with both excitement and dread?

Because of  _ Eddie _ .

And all the things Richie could never say, will never say, not now, even with Eddie’s quiet reassurances that this doesn’t change anything, that they can still be friends. That they  _ will  _ be friends. 

Neither of them say anything more.

Not until they reach Richie’s house. He’s never been up out of his car so quick, taking the keys back from Eddie, and handing him his first aid kit back in return. There’s a moment there, when they’ve traded things back, standing awkwardly in front of the car and if Richie was a little braver, in another life, he might ask a question that’s been on his mind since he was a kid.

Might take that risk.

But the thought of rejection…

Nothing has to change, that’s what Eddie had said, and Richie clings to that just for a moment. 

Being friends with Eddie just will have to be enough. 

“Thank you,” he says, knowing he should say something. 

“Be careful,” Eddie replies. “Not just here, but in that big city. Things are harder for people that are a little bit different, and I know I’m going to be worrying about you. So just don’t say the wrong thing to the wrong person and die, okay? And use protection.” 

It’s not goodbye.

Not really.

They still have a few more weeks.

But it feels like it might as well be. 

“You’ll promise to visit me right, we can hang out, just like old times,” Richie says. “Nothing has to change.” 

Eddie’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “Nothing has to change.” 

  
  
  


(But things change.

And people forget.

And the next time Richie is patching himself together again, in the bathroom of some New York City dive bar. He can’t escape the feeling that there’s something missing.)

**Author's Note:**

> come be my friend on twitter: [ @plinys ](https://twitter.com/plinys)


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